


Consequences or Truth

by jagfanatic (LustyLadyJane)



Series: Haiti Earthquake Relief Fics [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s07e01 Truth or Consequences, Family, Friendship, Haiti Relief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NFA, NFA Community, Other, Slash, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustyLadyJane/pseuds/jagfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adrenaline rush from the assault on Saleem's camp has worn off, but the drugs he gave Tony haven't.</p><p>**WARNINGS**<br/>1. Spoilers for the S6 finale "Aliyah" and the S7 premiere "Truth or Consequences".<br/>2. There is a slight deviation from canon events.<br/>3. Labeld slash, but I see Tony as bi-sexual and there is a very short fantasy het scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Barbara (NFA)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Miss_Barbara+%28NFA%29).



> This is one time you can read porn and proclaim, "It's for a good cause!"  
> "Consequences and Truth" was written for the Haiti Relief auction held by the NCIS Fanfiction Addiction Community (NFA) after the devastating earthquake that hit Haiti on Jan. 12, 2010. I offered to write smut ficlets for any pairing or moresome -- no matter how cutesy, squicky, creepy or WTFy. Except for a couple of squicks, nothing was off limits as long as it was within the NFA Rules & TOS.
> 
> Miss_Barbara's prompt for me read:  
> who: Tony and McGee  
> what: Give me something with badges, shoulderholsters and guns and I will be happy for ever!  
> when: I like something set early season 7  
> why: Because it's hot

It wasn't until they were back at NCIS that Tony was able to relax. It didn't happen immediately, the sound of applause had been unexpected, disconcerting the whole team. He stood by his desk, watching Ziva and Abby sway back and forth. The shimmering halo that had surrounded Gibbs as he stood backlit in the dark hallway encompassed them both. _Wonder if they ever did it._ Tony mentally head-slapped himself. He scratched the injection site on his forearm and frowned. _What did he say? Sodium amytal? Scopolamine? Whatever, he's a good chemist. This is unreal, it's been over twenty hours._ He sat down and pretended to work, watching Ziva over the edge of his monitor. It flexed and pulsed gently. _Unreal? Try surreal. It's breathing._ _Gotta remember to ask Abbs for the tox results. She's gonna want the recipe for this one. Major Mass Spec report for duty!_ He giggled softly.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony jerked his head around and stared blankly at The Boss. _What'd I screw up this time? He's annoyed at me._

Gibbs leaned over the desk to stare in Tony's eyes. _Icy blue, gorgeous, but they don't do to me what Tim's do._ He tried to focus on what The Boss was saying.

"How much of that stuff did he give you?" It was amazing how The Boss could look annoyed and sound worried. "Vance wants us in his office in thirty minutes; we're hitting the showers. You too."

"Yeah. A shower sounds good." He grabbed his go-bag and headed for the stairs. _The Director's office?_ Normally debriefs were done individually in the conference room. _We're in trouble._ He glanced at Ziva. _Or he's taking pity on us. Ziva looks like crap. Tim's bruised from head to toe. Hell, even the Boss is all banged up._

 ****

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

He wished they had longer in the showers. The hot water was doing wonders for his aching muscles.

"Abby. I can bathe myself."

"No, you can‘t. You‘ve got cuts in hard-to-reach places."

 _How does she know that?_ Tony poked his head out the shower and scanned the row. A tattooed hand came out of a stall and dropped Ziva's shirt on the floor. _She's helping Ziva get naked. If this were any other time..._ Tony mulled the situation over. _She wouldn't want us to treat her any different. Right? Normal is good._ Squatting down by his discarded pants, he began rummaging through the pockets. _Good thing they recovered our phones._

" **DiNozzo!** " Gibbs' bellow echoed around the tiled room. "You pull that damned phone out and the only thing you'll be taking pictures of is your GI tract."

He dropped the pants as if they were on fire.  _How does he **do** that?_  Dead silence surrounded him. Tony could feel four sets of eyes watching him through the walls. "Never entered my mind, Boss."

A giggle from Abby started a chain reaction. Laughter and taunts bounced off the tiles. "Tony, you are so busted!" "Bad idea, Tony. She's still sore about the bikini shots." "I can kill you as easily with a bar of soap, as a paperclip." "She's not lying, DiNozzo."

 _But what a way to go!_ Tony grinned. "How about a group pic?"

 ****

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Despite the presence of a couple of anonymous suits, the director kept the debriefing brief. The suits departed for parts unknown. _If they were ever there. Funny how they never said a word and nobody said anything to them._ Vance dismissed the team with another round of congratulations, and a reminder that Tony and Tim were on desk duty until they were cleared by psych. Gibbs stayed behind to discuss Intel received while they were away. _Intel, my ass. Share a drink, you mean,_ Tony thought, sneaking a peek over his shoulder. _They're awfully chummy these days._

He followed Tim and Ziva down the stairs. Tim was hovering near Ziva as if he expected her to collapse at any second. _Can't blame him, she's dead on her feet. Probie isn't looking much better, himself. Someone should stay with her tonight. Where did Vance say she's staying? Transient Housing? Dependent's? Whatever, she's gonna need a ride. And clothes. Looks cute in scrubs, though. Aqua Smurfette._ He stifled a laugh. _She'd kill me. Gotta save that for something special. I should pick some clothes up for her. I wonder if..._

Tony froze mid-stride. _Abby is sitting at The Boss's desk._ "Gibbs know you use his desk?"

"Gibbs **lets** me use his desk." She stood and held up a large gift bag.

Slipping past McGee and Ziva, he reached for the bag. "Presents?" he chirped. " For me? You shouldn't have."

"I didn't." She batted his hands away, and held the bag out to Ziva. "I raided the Navy Museum gift shop. Between that, my court clothes, and what I found stashed in the file drawers, I've got you set for a couple of days."

Ignoring the bag, Ziva hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Abby." Her voice had a little hitch in it. "That was very kind of you."

 _God, she's gonna cry. Ziva doesn't cry. Comfort or ignore? Comfort or ignore? Ignore._ He kissed Abby on the cheek. "Very kind and very thoughtful. You staying with her, tonight?"

"Yep." She neatly cut off Ziva's protests by saying, "Ducky's orders. Me or the hospital, take your pick."

A frustrated sigh escaped Ziva's lips, but all she said was, "Can we leave now?" Abby nodded and slipped an arm around her waist.

Tony debated walking them to the elevator, but decided against it. It would be too much like saying good bye. He put out a hand out to stop Tim from following them. "Give them some space." They sat down and tried to look like they were working instead of watching Ziva's back.

Tony was glad the monitor had stopped breathing. Unfortunately, the keyboard had turned into a mouth with lots of teeth. _Damn, I wanted to get that psych eval scheduled before I went home._ He cautiously tapped on the jagged teeth, sighing in relief when their only response was to wake the monitor. _I wonder what I said in the debriefing._   _Not much to tell, really: Played dumb, got captured, got beat up, Ziva's alive, bad guy's not._ Tony closed his eyes and groaned softly. The monitor was breathing again.


	2. Truth

"I'm going for coffee? Want anything?"

Tony was startled to see The Boss standing in front of him. He turned to the staircase, looked up at the balcony and back at Gibbs. "When did you...?" He paused, swallowed. "Nevermind. Strong, black, sweet -- make that **extra** -strong." He turned towards McGee's desk. "Tim?" Probie was gone. Tony frowned. _This is not good. I'm losing time. Or people._

"He's in MTAC with Vance. You‘ve been staring at your monitor for an hour."

Tony tried to concentrate, but couldn't get past the thought, _The Boss is standing in front of me._ His brain balked, and his eyes wouldn't cooperate. Gibbs kept going in and out of focus. Except for those piercing blue eyes, which stared into his like The Boss was searching for something.

"You are not driving yourself home. Understood?" _Guess he found what he was looking for._ "Understood." _Got, it, Boss. Rule number something-or-other: Thou shalt not drive when thou art stoned._ Gibbs didn't seem convinced, so he nodded and said again, "Understood, Boss. Got it. Tony no drive."

Gibbs gave him a strange look, but seemed satisfied. He nodded brusquely and left. Tony looked around the bull pen. Everything seemed so normal, yet he felt anything but normal. Unlocking his gun drawer, he pulled out his badge and holstered weapon and laid them on the desk. Facing Saleem without them, he had felt naked and exposed, like an abandoned lover. He had longed for the taut pressure of the strap across his back, the bulge of the Sig against his side. _Does McGee ever think about his weapon like this? Does Gibbs?_ His mind conjured an image of Gibbs laying on the desert sand, fondling his ‘Kate' as he sighted Saleem in the crosshairs.

The rifle lengthened and became Kate, _locked, cocked, and ready for action,_ _naked in the warm sand, arms clasped over her head pointing to the hut where he and Tim were being held. "Kate, you naughty girl! Giving it up to Gibbs." Her legs were beneath Jethro, the soft tuft of hair at her crotch beneath his chin. He and Jethro were one, their hands gliding up the alabaster skin of her side to grasp her forearms. He dipped his chin, burying his nose in her bush, inhaling her scent. Tony nuzzled lower, the tip of his tongue playing over the sensitive nub of her clit._

 _Gibbs' voice echoed throughout the desert, " **DiNozzo!** What the HELL do you think you're doing?" The butt of a gun rebounded against his skull. _

Tony snapped his head around, searching for Gibbs. Nothing. A long sigh of relief escaped him. Muttering, "This one's on me, Boss," he smacked himself on the back of the head. _Get a grip, DiNozzo. You've been through worse crap and not lost it like this._ Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the items on his desk. Holding the badge in the palm of his hand, Tony ran his fingers across it lightly, reacquainting himself with the shape and texture. As if responding to a lover’s caress, the metal grew warm beneath his touch. He smiled softly, secured the badge to his waistband, and reached for his weapon.

The steel felt good in his hands. His palm cupped around the butt, the barrel stiff and firm. The scent of gun oil teased his nose. He freed the clip, then pulled it out slowly. It was ready for action and he rammed it home, and thrust his weapon in the holster. They were made for each other, the fit perfect: snug yet allowing him to slide it in and out easily. Tony toyed with his weapon, pulling it in and out, an unconscious rhythm of thrust and glide, slow and gentle, quick and fierce until finally he was satisfied. He breathed in the heady scent of leather and sweat, and turned his attention to the harness. It felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hands, yet he knew every inch by touch. The starps were smooth and stiff, yet supple beneath his fingers. With practiced ease, he shrugged it on and buckled it securely. For the first time since Somalia, he began to relax.

 ****

 **~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

It was getting harder and harder to focus. After listening to the same voicemail three times without comprehending a word that was siad, he gave up and began sorting the paperwork that had piled up in his inbox. Not long after that, the aroma of fresh-brewed hazelnut coffee drew his attention. He glanced up to see Tim approaching. _I thought Gibbs went for coffee._ "Where did you come from?"

"Gibbs asked me to bring these up. He's down in Autopsy." _Nice evasion technique, Probie,_ "Thanks." The massive bruises on Tim's face stood out in stark contrast to his fair skin. _No one's going to call you 'probie', now. Not after this._ He took the coffee Tim offered. Their fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary around the cup. _Except me. You‘re my Probie._ He gave Tim a subtle wink and a not-so-subtle smirk.

Tim smiled back and went to his desk. Looking over at Tony, he said, "Good to be back."

"Yeah, yeah, it is." Tony noticed Tim checked his email first and chuckled softly. _McGeek._ Tim flexed his arms and winced, causing Tony to grimace along with him.

Tim had gotten the worst of it. Because he spoke in Arabic, Saleem's men were convinced he had Intel, and they were determined to beat it out of him. _You deserve a Purple Heart. Do you know how proud I am of you? How terrified I was when you fell to the floor? How I wanted to rip apart the bastard who kicked you?_ Being strapped down, watching them have at a bound and defenseless Tim, was worse than being tortured himself. _I'll make it up to you. I promise. As soon as we're alone, I'm gong to show you. I'm going to kiss every one of your bruises and tell you how much I love you with each kiss._

Abandoning any attempt to work, Tony turned back to his computer and pretended to check his emails. The two of them hadn't had a romantic moment since they left for Somalia. The op was too dangerous to allow themselves to be distracted, even when --  **especially** when -- they were alone in the desert. Then it was over, the trip back a chaotic whirl of copters, corpsmen, and canvas seats in cargo holds. They didn't even have a chance to change, let alone kiss. They didn't care. They were too glad to have Ziva back. No one wanted to be more than an arm's length from her, and she was too drained to pretend not to want them there. _Poor kid seemed afraid to close her eyes. I‘d be afraid, too. Mossad agents are tough, but three months..._ He didn't want to think about that. How long she was with them. What they might have done to her. Whatever it was, the few times exhaustion forced her to sleep, her fingers would grope about until they twined themselves in someone's shirt tail, cuff,or pants pocket with a white-knuckled death grip. _Afraid it was a dream, that she'd wake up and be back in that hell hole? Afraid we'd leave her behind? Never happen, Ziva. We never leave a man behind. You're one of us. For better or worse._

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and tried to put Somalia out of his mind. Time to call it quits. Opening his eyes, he leaned back and stared silently at his partner. As though Tim sensed someone was watching him, his fair skin flushed slightly. The heat was rising in Tony as well. "You ready to get out of here?"

Tim looked up. "More than ready." He grabbed his gun and badge and threw them in his go-bag.

 _So much for his weapon being his lover,_  Tony thought, leading the way to the elevator.  _And he's busting the 'portal to portal' regs. Ribs must be hurting again._  He frowned, Ducky had said the x-rays came back clear, but the ME wasn't used to working on living, breathing, moving people.  _Maybe I should inspect them myself._ He stepped onto the elevator. The descent caught him off-guard, and he lurched backwards. The elevator tilted as thaat sense of unreality hit him again. It was as if the world was out of sync, and he wasn't quite in it.

 __

 _Everything's different and everything's the same. Hope it stops phasing in and out like this. Must be some kind of space-time distortion. The Probie'll know. Nah, don't be an idiot. This isn't Star Trek, this is real. Right? It's real? Has to be, or Ziva's still in Somaila. Tony clung to the rails, focusing on the thought of Ziva wrapped in Abby's arms. _Right. Ziva's alive, this is real, and this is NOT good. Must be the drugs, some weird side effect._ The weight of his weapon at his side was reassuring. Tony slipped his hand inside his jacket and patted the holster. _**This** is real. Focus on reality. __

Reality was Tim standing barely two feet in front of him. The curve of his butt not quite hidden by hem of his t-shirt. The shirt hung loose, one step and Tony could slide his hands up under the fabric and wrap his arms around Tim, caressing his incredibly soft skin. _Femglow. Who'd've thunk it?_ The scent alone was enough to get him hard. One step. That was all it would take. One step and he could press his dick against that beautiful ass. _One step, slide my hand down into his pants, grab his hard cock, already wet with anticipation. My other hand playing with his balls. I grind my dick against him. His head falling back to rest on my shoulder. His breath whispering in my ear, "_ Tony, you coming?" _as the elevator comes to stop and we..._ "Tony?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm..."

"Did you forget something?"

"Only how hot you are."

Tim's exasperated sigh. "Are we going back up?"

 _"Back up and I'll go up your a..." Up. In the elevator. **I'm in the elevator!**_ Tony shook his head to clear it. _Don't come! Don't come! Don't Come!_

Tim was standing in the lobby, looking very worried. Thankfully, no one was waiting to get on. "Hey, Tony, are you all right?"

The temptation to take Tim in his arms right then and there was almost overwhelming, but they had agreed to follow Rule #12. Their amended version, at least, "Not on company time or military property." Some days it was almost unbearable, at other times, like now, it was excruciating, delightful, foreplay. "No! I'm fine," he panted. "Right behind you."

"You sure? You don't sound..." Tim's concern melted into an impish grin as he spotted Tony's raging erection. "Geeze, Tony, if I'd known you were that anxious we could have left an hour ago."

In two long strides, Tony was beside Tim, delivering a smack to the back of his head. " **Now** you tell me."


End file.
